


Menace

by RainbowObsidian



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Kevin is his father's son, M/M, Post-canon softness, let them live a little, tipsy neil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 05:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30050757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowObsidian/pseuds/RainbowObsidian
Summary: This is new: Neil, being comfortable to have a few drinks and knowing Andrew has his back. Andrew being comfortable enough to relax while Neil drinks, without worrying about taking advantage or acting out of turn. Neil knows Andrew would never hurt him, and Andrew knows Neil will tell him to stop if he needs it, regardless of whether he’s a little pickled or not. Besides, it’s not like Neil is plastered. He’s hovering in that delicious space between sober and drunk, where his cheeks tingle, his thoughts are brave enough to navigate uncharted terrain, and his tongue is loose. It’s fun.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 17
Kudos: 184





	Menace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vertigo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vertigo/gifts), [djhedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/gifts).



> So it's possible that on Christmas Eve Eve I had had a few wines and it's possible Dranna and Hedgie nee-nawed at me for something I said, or did, or, who knows really, it was three months ago and did I mention wine? 
> 
> Anywho, I started writing this and then I found it a few days ago and decided to finish it off. Unbetad because that's how loose-tongued jenn would have liked it.

“So,” Neil says, pouring another glass of wine, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Hmmm?” Andrew responds, eyebrow raised and a wry smile on his face. Neil loves Andrew’s wry smile. Neil loves Andrew, wry smile or otherwise, but he really does love the wry smile version of his person’s face. 

“I’ve been thinking we need to go away for a few days.”

“We went to Colombia last weekend.”

“No,” Neil says with authority. He points the bottle towards Andrew in offering and when he shakes his head, recaps the lid. “ _Away_ away. Somewhere different. Maybe like…” he stops, purses his lips, and tilts his head to the side in concentrated thought. Notices Andrew notice the purse of his lips and tries to school his mouth into a Serious Position. Judging by his boyfriend’s smirk he is not sure he’s succeeded. “I think we should go to…” he takes a drink and considers locations within an easy drive of Palmetto, “... Charleston.”

“Charleston?”

“Charleston. Antiquated. Horses and shit.”

“Neil have you been to Charleston?” 

Andrew is looking at Neil now like he knows full well he hasn’t been to Charleston and he is taking this piss out of him. If he was sober, Neil might be offended. But then, if he was sober, Andrew probably wouldn’t be taking the piss out of him either. 

“I read about it in a travel magazine,” Neil says with authority. “There’s cobblestone streets and horse drawn carriages and everything. Best city in America for six years running or something. It’s basically Europe, but, well, several hundred years younger. And in America.”

Neil sits on the sofa beside Andrew and preens internally when Andrew lifts his arm and allows him to snuggle in. This is also new; this casual, relaxed contact, and after a lifetime of being deprived of positive physical touch, he basks in the connection. The Foxes are an affectionate bunch but no one feels like home the way Andrew does and while he will never take their relationship for granted, he also realises every offering from Andrew is a gift. He pulls his feet up underneath him and rests his head on Andrew's shoulder, taking another sip of wine. 

“I figure that since we can’t actually go anywhere properly, that maybe Charleston might be a good compromise.”

“What makes you think that I want to be anywhere other than where we are right now?” Andrew murmurs, tilting his head forward to kiss Neil’s forehead and Neil thinks if he died right now he would die a happy man. He says as much to Andrew. “You’re an idiot,” Andrew responds. “I didn’t sit through 18 hours of FBI interrogation with you just for you to die aged twenty two in a college dormitory. I want at least another four years out of you just to get my money’s worth.”

“You and the Moriyamas,” Neil giggles. “Anyway” he says, returning to the matter at hand. “Charleston.”

“Charleston.”

“Charleston. It’s like, pineapple central or something, which is right up my alley, and because it’s near the ocean there’s loads of fresh seafood.”

“You hate seafood, Neil,” Andrew says, and god, he will never get over the sound of his name - the name he chose - coming out of Andrew’s mouth. He leans up and kisses Andrew on the cheek. 

“You love it though,” he shrugs, and he knows his movements are a little exaggerated but he doesn’t care because what he’s about to say deserves as much exaggerated intention as he can muster, “and I love you, so why wouldn’t we go?” Andrew rolls his eyes in response. “Besides. Pineapples. 

“Neil,” Andrew adjusts himself so that he can look Neil in the eye. “My sweet and spiky human. You do realise that pineapples in Charleston are just a symbol of Southern hospitality, and the chance of getting a pineapple there that hasn’t been shipped from the Carribean is slim to none, right?”

“I know,” Neil huffs, “just… do you want to go or not?”

Andrew signs, long and suffering and Neil stares at him, open and unwavering, and Andrew says, “Fine.”

Neil’s eyes go wide and he grins his feral grin, the one that used to remind him of his father, that moment by moment, piece by piece, year by year he has claimed as his own. “Let’s go during Spring Break!” he says, wicked and delighted, as he rearranges himself on the sofa with his head in Andrew’s lap.

“You are a menace,” Andrew growls, though the hand gently carding through Neil’s hair gives away how he really feels. “If you think Dan will let me take you away for the whole week during her final year, you have not considered how much pleasure she would take from stabbing me with one of my own knives.”

“I’ll protect you," Neil says, protective and over-exaggerated, reaching up to poke Andrew on the cheek. At the last minute Andrew whips his head sideways and snaps his teeth at Neil's finger, eliciting a squeal and Neil is simultaneously mortified that someone like him has the capacity to make a sound like that, and glad that they are alone, that Kevin is out cold in the next room and that his secrets are always safe with Andrew. He would never live that down.

Andrew is shaking now, and his eyes are glistening though his face remains otherwise stoic and Neil realises he is being laughed at.

"Now who's a menace?" he pouts, then clambours up onto his knees and straddles Andrew, presses his palms to his cheeks and kisses him hard. He doesn't have to look to know Andrew's subtle expressions have shifted. He feels it in the tilt of his head, the softening of his cheeks, the deepening of his kiss, that Neil greedily accepts and gives back with fervour. 

Andrew groans into his mouth and slides his hands up the back of Neil's shirt, warm fingers splay across across his shoulder blades and goosebumps erupt along his lower back where the cool air touches freshly exposed skin. The juxtaposition between hot and cold sends a shiver through Neil and he feels Andrew once again smiling against his mouth. 

He retaliates, breaking away and trailing hot kisses down Andrew's neck, tongue flickering in and out across his pulse point in just the right spot and then blowing lightly across spit slick skin. Andrew's whole body convulses in response, he bites hard on Neil's shoulder and in one deft movement flips him over onto his back, lengthways along the sofa and grabs both hands to pin them above his head on the arm rest.

Except they misjudge the space.

Except the bottle of wine wine is precariously close to the edge of the coffee table beside the sofa.

Except in Andrew's hustle to stop it from falling and spilling its contents on the carpet he knocks over the standard lamp and sends it crashing into the entertainment unit.

There is silence as both boys hold their breath.

Then, "What the ever loving fuck?" Kevin spits from the doorway. 

Neil turns his head towards the sound, smirks and says "Has anyone ever told you you sound like coach?"

"Go back to bed, Day," Andrew says in a flat tone that Neil feels is quite an admirable attempt at cool indifference, but the delicious flush of his cheeks and his ragged breath is a dead giveaway to the contrary. 

"Oh I'm sorry to be the fun police," Kevin says with the exact flavour of disdain he reserves for when he's been woken before he's ready. "Do you think you could keep it down?"

"Unlikely," mutters Andrew at the same time Neil wails "Nee-naw" and then, registering what Andrew said, raises a suggestive eyebrow and adds "Let's hope not."

Kevin sighs, rolls his eyes and returns to the bedroom. Thirty seconds later he emerges, comforter and pillow in hand and makes for the dorm door, presumably to crash on Aaron's couch. At the last minute, he stops, leans on the doorframe and says with a wink, "I didn't take you for a squealer, Neil."


End file.
